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Surname 2

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June 5, 2015

Studying In America

Each pursuit for a dream starts with a conviction that there is a tall tale holding up toward the end. On one day when the daylight filtered through the green leaves on the trees, in my high school years, my American classmate told me tales about his family in the United States, tales about the great house with a swimming pool, and a vineyards that was trotted on with gallant horses back in California. My friend’s depictions of America painted an imaginary wonderland in my head, more like a promised land of orts. At that tender age, my fantasies about America marked the epitome of my brimming dreams about the invaluable opportunity it would be to study in America. Fantasies from my classmate’s depiction of America highlighted the height of my aspirations to attain an education in a foreign culture.

Being the first child among five siblings, my father, a man who held foreign culture at high esteem, made it his sole endeavor to make sure that I secured an American scholarship in one of the American Learning Institutions. My father was particularly interested in learning about foreign culture, considering the fact that he actually studied in England. I grew up, gaining my father’s zeal of learning foreign cultures such as Japanese, Spanish, Italian particularly American, all by myself.

As fate would have it, I got a scholarship in mechanical engineering. This was particularly an added advantage for me, towards a successful stay in the United States. I had a particular interest in the fields of science such as, chemistry, physics, math, anything identified with science. Also, I had general education classes, which was mostly about sociology, psychology and history. I particularly appreciate learning dialects, and truth be told, I contemplate fitting in perfectly in the American Culture.

However, my perspective of the American culture and people seemed to have been inaccurate. What I had once believed to be the land of plenty, was not what it seemed to be from the outside. From the frequent walks I took down the streets on my weekend when I did not have any classes, I realized that not everybody was living a good life here in America, the land of dreams. As time progressed, the occasional sight of a homeless man sitting by the alley corner next to a trolley of junk was not as surprising as it was in the first days. I was at first struck with utter dismay having seen these were American citizens who had no roof and shelter over their heads. Days in the General Studies classes only helped me to understand the American Culture even more. Both at school and in the streets, I saw adult individuals who did not give the slightest care about their parents and their family relations. These observations only made my heart quiver in disappointment, as what I had long considered to be the land of free, was like any other country in the world. It is such distressed feelings that made me realize that although America was still the land of dreams, not everybody in this culture has it easy as I had imagined. Furthermore, I learnt that not everyone in the American culture behaves well, and has a successful life.